I applaud everything about two-dishes-in-one, including the dot of celery root puree atop each oyster and the fact that it’s an idea from Tony Chittum, the former longtime chef at Iron Gate in Washington and, since February, the star of the show at Vermilion in Alexandria, which is where I caught the fried oysters.
What a difference a chef makes. Ahead of Chittum’s arrival, I couldn’t recommend Vermilion. Part of the Neighborhood Restaurant Group, sibling to brands as diverse as the meaty B Side in Fairfax and the beer-steeped Birch & Barley in the District, the Old Town stalwart was a lesser place to eat last year. Back in the fall, I recall salty drum, dry short ribs, a woman next to me complaining about the small size of her steak, a server wondering “Who gets the fish?” — it was a bumpy night, dear readers — and thinking that everything on the menu read better than it tasted. At a certain point, I stopped taking notes. My sad dinner wasn’t anything I was going to share, at least in print. I filed Vermilion under the category of Places No One Needs to Know About.
These days? You want to make a date with the American restaurant — swipe right at the prospect of a menu that reinforces its fresh and local approach with a map of its producers. Vermilion marks a return for Chittum, 47, who cooked here for five years before moving to Iron Gate and is among a handful of chefs who have made a dining destination of the two-story restaurant, its seating expanded during the pandemic to include the sidewalk on bustling King Street.
Vermilion “was always a special place for me,” says Chittum, who was eager to return to an American restaurant after more than a decade of cooking Greek and Italian at Iron Gate. So long, mezze. Hello, big plates and the freedom to stretch.
Servers are quick to tell you there’s a new sheriff in town and introduce Vermilion’s “farm to table” concept, by now such a throwaway phrase it’s like “have a nice day.” In one ear and out the other. (Is any restaurant worth its sea salt going to say “we have no relationships with farmers” or “some of our food is from cans and boxes”?)
Not that restaurants can’t boast a little. Vermilion plays up beautiful speckled radicchio from Karma Farm in Maryland, in a haystack of a salad, with local sheep’s milk cheese and ruddy country ham. Like the oysters, the appetizer, crisp with chips of fried Jerusalem artichokes, is portioned for two. Try to get a little taste of everything in each spear of the fork. The free-range bison for the steak tartare comes from New Frontier in Virginia. The ground meat, creamy with porcini aioli, is paved with frills including pickled mushrooms, finely grated cheese and pieces of toasted bread serving as croutons. Scoop away.
“Bettie’s buns” are a legacy from Chittum’s wife’s grandmother, whose yeasty rolls were a holiday staple. The buns are a closely guarded secret, says Chittum, who is one of only three people to have the recipe. The chef serves them hot from the oven, sprinkled with sea salt and three to a small cast-iron pan, which is too few for those who like to use bread to enjoy the remains of dressings or sauces. Needless to say, I can see why you wouldn’t want to pass up an invitation to the chef’s wife’s family gatherings.
A main course of buttery scallops on a bed of shelling beans comes with a surprise: fritters that improve on scrapple, a staple of Pennsylvania Dutch cooking. Pig parts are mixed with brown polenta, parmesan and clove, rolled into rounds and deep-fried. Shazam! Chittum has figured out how to make a purse out of a sow’s ear, or at least pork shoulder and ham hocks. Count me a fan of Vermilion’s pasta, too: house-rolled “double” ravioli filled with braised cabbage on one side and buttery potatoes on the other. News flash: Cabbage is enjoying a moment now. Add this dish, finished with petals of singed Brussels sprouts, to the many reasons why.
Steak seems like a way to catch the attention of tourists in Old Town. Yet the strip loin, dense and rosy, resists being typecast as safely straightforward. Joining the steak are a bright salsa, crisp potato wedges and, because the kitchen never sends out anything without a little something extra, a little blue cheese suspended in tempura.
Vermilion gives you several ways to experience it. In addition to the a la carte menu, diners can go the family-style route, a chance to try all the appetizers and, depending on the size of the party, one or more of the main courses and desserts plus some extras for $75 a person (provided the entire party participates). A separate menu, embracing a few dishes from the list upstairs, is served on the ground-floor tavern and distinguishes itself with gentler prices (entrees average $25) and snacks including arancini by way of Philadelphia (bits of steak mingle with the melted cheese and rice). I can vouch for brunch here, foremost the juicy fried chicken and Belgian waffles rounded out with a glossy salad.
Need help ordering? Skip the maple-roasted carrots on a little raft of (underbaked) puff pastry and the (stiff) trout, partnered with what tastes like under-seasoned clam chowder spooned into clam shells.
The best finish is a moist peanut financier served with sparkling mandarin orange sorbet and dabs of silky chocolate cremeaux. The richest is butterscotch custard, intense if sweeter than preferable, and served in a bowl that is best shared by three or more. The wildest dessert is a sundae built with Girl Scout cookies, some embedded in the custardy ice cream (Do-si-dos), others put to work as garnishes (Tagalongs). Like the young troops who set up shop outside grocery stores and ask us to buy their stock in trade, the sundae is hard to say no to, even for staff. “The cookies are locked up,” jokes general manager Cara Craig. Dig deep in the parfait glass to catch all the action.
The interior is as generic as the food is exciting. The upstairs dining room is still dressed with the brick walls and lantern lights it’s been wearing seemingly since opening in 2003; the ground floor combines tall and banquette tables and a rear lounge area with low red seating and dim lighting that could be mistaken for a tired gentlemen’s club. (Upstairs or down, the best tables continue to be the ones hugging the windows looking onto the street.)
The restaurant group should recruit a designer to assist Chittum in the mission of filling seats. I can’t help but think the chef must feel like he’s returning to the bedroom of his youth and finding the bed too small. Chittum’s art deserves a better frame.
1120 King St., Alexandria. 703-684-9669. vermilionrestaurant.com. Open for indoor and outdoor dining 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday for dinner, 10:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday for brunch. Prices: Dinner appetizers $12 to $18, main courses $32 to $39. Farm table menu $75 per person. Sound check: 71 decibels/Must speak with raised voice. Accessibility: Wheelchair users can enter the restaurant using a removable ramp, but the restrooms are cramped and stairs lead to the second-floor dining room.
